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Hedy refused to lift her head, awkwardly nodding in response.
For a moment, he was grateful for these mice—though he knew he’d need to set up more traps in the corners later.
They walked at a steady pace, neither too fast nor too slow, and it somehow lifted their spirits.
He carried her to the spacious, clean outdoors and gently set her down.
Hedy hesitated for a second before releasing her grip on his neck and letting out a long, relieved breath.
Da Vinci, using the old Italian and French methods, made three or four mouse traps, placing them in corners and under cabinets.
His clever mind could accomplish grand tasks like designing castles, but he was equally inspired when working on such small mechanisms.
Perhaps it was because the bait had been prepared with a strong meaty scent, as every morning he would find three or four mice caught in the traps, their dirty, semi-transparent tails limply dangling.
As for Miss Hedy, she made it clear that until these creatures were properly cleared, she’d rather spend the entire day writing papers in her bedroom.
Botticelli suggested, "Why not bring back a cat?"
Coincidentally, Michelangelo had a large white cat in his workshop, which had given birth to a litter two months ago. The noise from the kittens had caused such a ruckus that the artists had considered getting rid of them.
So, the men and the boys went over to select one, finding a little fluffy guardian for their mutual friend.
The kitten was named Alpha, but it showed no interest in the mice and preferred to sneak into the kitchen instead.
Hedy spent an entire week in her bedroom, study, and the backyard, writing papers with such efficiency that the people at the Florence Academy were left in awe.
So, Da Vinci borrowed a large black cat from his neighbor, and soon the sounds of mice shrieking filled the laboratory.
Though the big black cat didn’t seem particularly eager to clean up the bloodstains and fur, it was diligent in its hunting.
The Doge’s Palace became increasingly lively.
The black cat would chase and play with the little white cat, and they were sometimes followed by several young Medici boys andgirls. The sound of chiseling echoed through the courtyard, like someone tirelessly chewing on a Napoleon pastry.
The lord was busy with trade negotiations with the Venetians, while the lady of the house began sponsoring more and more artists.
They were likely to move into the Palazzo Pitti this September, and Hedy planned to leave Florence around the same time.
She was still considering matters related to the Roman, and Atalante had written several letters back.
The letters were written in a mix of code and Italian, reporting on business while subtly probing into her current relationship with Leonardo.
"Everything is going well here—there are more and more festivities for the Carnival," the young man wrote with such earnestness that some of the ink even blurred. "My little son is so adorable—when are you coming back to see him?"
At the age of nineteen, being a father in this era didn’t seem particularly young. Hedy couldn’t help but chuckle when she replied to his letters, expressing that she would consider returning soon.
In Florence, she had purchased and organized several properties, and opened four or five workshops.
The pace of expansion, both in terms of scale and sales lines, was astonishing.
The managers were seasoned professionals, and the supervisory chain was clear and well-defined.
Sometimes, when Hedy counted her wealth, she would instinctively regret for a few seconds.
If she hadn't been so eager to liquidate that ring back then, it might have quietly rested in one of Da Vinci's workshop's hidden compartments.
But without that ring, she might have long since met her end in the streets without protection.
